


A Little Conversation

by SmoggyFogbottom



Series: Din Djarin Just Wants Friends [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: As you do, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, flying away from murderhobos as father and son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22439914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoggyFogbottom/pseuds/SmoggyFogbottom
Summary: This happens after Sanctuary but before The Prisoner. Baby Yoda misses Sorgan.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Din Djarin Just Wants Friends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614700
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	A Little Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> I nearly broke my own dang heart having Mando call Baby Yoda "it" or "creature" instead of what we know he wants to call him which is "my very capable and very sweet son"

The little one was lying across the top of the console, staring at the nav-screen from its perch above it. Every so often it would press its mouth to the screen and babble incoherently, leaving drool across the image. Din needed to see what was displayed, but was in no rush. He picked up a tiny hand between his fingers and moved it to the edge. The baby gurgled happily and smacked its hand over the screen again. 

“Do you want to go there?” 

“Eh?” The little creature chirped, large eyes lifting up to stare at Din’s helmeted face. It giggled and patted the screen with incoherent chatter. 

“Well, I’ve been there. It’s a dump. We would not have a good time, trust me.” 

Din was not a talkative man. Being a hunter was a lucrative way to bring in money and supplies for the Tribe. It was often lonely work. A solitary life certainly lent itself to silence, but he had always been this way. The warrior who took him under his wing would often say _even a fool can become wise if he listens more than he speaks._ He was unsure whether this was meant as a compliment or an insult, but it was a phrase that he carried with him. The reason was uncomplicated – he either had nothing of value to say or did not know how to say the right thing. In the end he opted for silence. The air of mystery this caused was unintentional, but often gave him an advantage when dealing with the enemy. 

But the child – this little green womp-rat – mentally loosened whatever prevented him from carrying a conversation. He found himself chatting to it about what he was doing, where they were going, he talked about things he thought were interesting. At first it was jarring. He was talking more in a span of a few days than he had in months previous. After a bit, it felt normal. Was it because it was a baby? A different species? Maybe its lack of understanding and expectations freed up his words – he wasn’t sure. The little one’s eyes still watched him, and it reached its tiny hand to his finger, patting it lightly while cooing. It might be a baby, but he was certain it comprehended more than a human child could. How could something live 50 years and not have some understanding of life? 

He pressed a button and a new planet displayed on screen. The child sat up and reached into its robe, into a little pocket one of the Sorgan farmers had sewn in, and pulled out a little wooden trinket. It reached down and tapped the trinket against the screen, croaking sadly. 

“Me too, kid.” Leaving Sorgan was – well, it was difficult. It was easy to rationalize his disappointment in terms of how the kid felt, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Din missed Cara, he missed Omera and Winta, he even missed the slow talking, hardworking people of the village. How quickly they welcomed him and _his boy_. The kid’s ears drooped and it held onto the trinket with both hands. “Maybe later. When it's safe. Right now, we need some credits.” 


End file.
